


Stolen Touch

by iesika



Series: Stolen/Borrowed [1]
Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Crush, Fingerstripes, Masturbation, Other, Uniforms, pornday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-18
Updated: 2009-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iesika/pseuds/iesika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim likes the gloves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Touch

  
  
It’s a risk, because there is a chance that Dick will wake up and wonder where he’s gone, wonder why he isn’t tucked in safely on his couch. Tim thinks it’s worth it, though – even the risk that something awful will happen that requires Nightwing’s attention, and that Dick will open up the secret panel and discover his theft.   
  
He’s on the floor of Dick’s bathroom, leaning back against the hard edge of the tub, the porcelain as cold as the tile under his ass, against his balls. He doesn’t even feel it, though, because he’s pulling on the gloves. They’re too big – his hands slide inside them too easily, and his fingers don’t reach the tips. He doesn’t care. It’s good enough. It’s _enough_.   
  
His gauntlets don’t feel like this. They’re stiffer, textured for climbing, reinforced across the knuckles with durable polymer. Nightwing’s gloves are like a Kevlar skin, and just barely thick enough that when he brings his fingers to his mouth, he can only really feel it with his lips.   
  
There’s a mirror on the back of the bathroom door, and Tim watches, revels in the illusion as he traces his own mouth. Nightwing’s gloves, and it could be Dick’s fingers in them, should be, should be Dick’s palm he licks from the heel, along the stripe, up and between his middle and ring fingers. It should be Dick’s thumb on his chin, prying his mouth open, to slide those two, blue fingers into Tim’s mouth, push a little, past his teeth, scraping on the edges, pressing down on his tongue. His index and pinkie, dark against his pale skin, splay against his face when he thrusts the fingers deeper, all the way down.   
  
Tim’s other hand – the other glove – is busy. He cups his testicles and squeezes, lightly at first and then a little more. The glove is too dry to do more without pain, and so he switches hands, bites down on his thumb until he can _feel it_ through the glove, catches his cock with his slick hand and pumps, slowly, looking down.   
  
He’s not going to last long. He’s not –   
  
Tim pulls himself up to his knees and turns a little, and then he sucks his index finger hard, licking it all over and getting it as wet as he can. He wishes there were another mirror, behind him, wishes he could see better as he pushes into himself. If he didn’t have to decide which hand to watch…oh, if he had a _camera_... He could edit the footage, crop it just so...  
  
He bucks into his fist – into the glove – grips himself tighter and lets himself go, caught between his hands – the hands - _his_ hands.   
  
Oh. He bites his lip and shakes his way through a gasping, panting orgasm, careful as he can be to keep himself silent. If he called Dick’s name, he would come running.   
  
Oh.   
  
The glove looks even better, now. Tim examines it in the light, turning it, careful, watching the damp shine. He brings his fingers to his mouth again.   
  
He ought to put the gloves back clean, after all.


End file.
